


Captive

by NewAllegroBeat



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewAllegroBeat/pseuds/NewAllegroBeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HyukJae looks out the window and feeds his imagination. It’s not that he’s not happy, it’s just that he sometimes wonders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyukpan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyukpan/gifts).



> A little bit of a short one-shot, mostly an overgrown drabble inspired by Animals (Maroon 5). Hope it's not too hard to get, my head can get weird sometimes(?)

 

He wakes up alone in bed, his body heavy, his skin tender against the grey Egyptian cotton sheets. His limbs ache. His wrists are raw. His stomach is painfully empty. Yet his heart is perfectly content here, at home.

This particularly warm morning of spring, HyukJae feels light and well-rested.

If anything, he’s a bit disappointed he’s woken up alone.

Still, it’s to be expected, if the frantic yet harmonious melody of the piano coming from the other side of the wall is of any indication. KyuHyun can and _will_ practice at any hour.

He slowly rises from the bed, feeling that slight pull of muscle that follows any truly great night.  Even so, he walks lightly, his old dancer days still keeping him graceful. He grabs one of the strawberry chocolate cookies from the delicate crystal tray that always lies on their nightstand because HyukJae gets hungry and can’t go out the bedroom without permission, much less naked. So he has to wait until KyuHyun comes for him, and that could take forever. KyuHyun loves him. Of that HyukJae’s sure, but he’s forgetful and sometimes gets so caught up inside his own hellhole of a head to remember him. So after HyukJae’s first episode of near starvation in an extensive effort to follow KyuHyun’s… _household rules_ , KyuHyun guiltily bought a mini fridge for their room. And HyukJae is fucking grateful for it.

He takes a water bottle and downs two thirds of it in one sip; his sore throat burns from the cold flow, his stomach grumbles with betrayal. He doesn’t care, though. HyukJae has learnt to control his physical wants. More than that—he’s long ago _mastered_ them. Emotional desires are a bit trickier. You can’t really will feelings to _leave,_ you have to _mask_ them.

He fumbles around for a cigarette, a menthol one because he doesn’t think he can handle anything stronger at the moment; he’s already light-headed enough as it is. He blinks when he lets out the smoke from the first drag feeling part of it crawl through his lungs, his veins, into his blood, polluting him— _tainting_ him. He smirks at the thought walking up to the huge glass doors that separate the balcony from the bedroom and turning its back to it, pressing himself against the soothingly cold material. His eyes scan the room aimlessly, every little corner, object or imperfection already fixed in his memory.

A bitter smile tugs at his lips when he thinks about how he’s gotten every hole in the wall learnt by heart; at first he’d wanted to remember everything so he could describe KyuHyun’s “lair” to his saviors in detail so _they_ could capture KyuHyun, take his freedom away just as he’d taken HyukJae’s. He’d been so angry back then; he’d wanted KyuHyun dead—no, better yet, _alive_ and _suffering_. Because death is easy, final. Torture and anguish can go on forever, strong and scorching, until all you want to do is kill yourself, and if you are denied of that release... it can turn you crazy.

At least that’s how HyukJae had felt like, back then. Trapped, suffocated, wishing it would end, whatever should take for it to end. He’d hated KyuHyun, so much. For taking him away from all he knew—friends, family, his brother DongHae, dance lessons, college, his dreams of normalcy… everything. KyuHyun had just come and erased all away from him, in one stark and sharp snap of fingers.

But all that was a long time ago— _too long_ ago, and HyukJae’s ‘everything’ is here now; it’s this room, this house. KyuHyun was right—he’d never be normal, he would have never been free to love anybody openly without being frowned upon. He would’ve been destined to hide, to fake. To be told whom he could love and whom he couldn’t. Here he’s free, just as KyuHyun had promised.

Sure, lots of people would call their… _situation_ a bit twisted around the edges, perhaps even all over the place (and well, haven’t they been all over the place alright), but they wouldn’t understand, they can’t know what it is like, how liberating it actually is. No pressure, no problems.

 _“You won’t worry about anything else, ever again”_ KyuHyun promised, and so far it has been true. Of course HyukJae sometimes still worries about _some_ things, mostly KyuHyun’s rules—by now he’s already got them down to the very core, but he’s only human and he’s bound to make mistakes from time to time. He also worries about KyuHyun’s health, which the latter constantly overlooks. Still, it’s a good deal to have all his energy centered on only one person, on that _one_ desire.

The ultimate possession, KyuHyun calls it.

Nowadays he doesn’t crave for anything he won’t have. He doesn’t lack anything he might need.

But even so… sometimes he wonders.

Not about how his life would have been if KyuHyun hadn’t taken him; he has let go of those thoughts completely, ever since he first said _“I love you”_ and KyuHyun’s eyes just lit up with an overwhelmingly indescribable emotion. Plus, what _could_ he have had? A lifetime of dull friendships and impossible romances? Watching all his acquaintances form families and then die like just another chapter in the book of thousands of lives? No. What he’s got here is not even better, it’s incomparable. Here he’s not a mere word—he’s the whole damn book.

No, what HyukJae wonders about is _escaping._

When KyuHyun gets too absorbed in his music, the only love that can compare to the passion he feels for HyukJae, the blonde fantasizes about making KyuHyun sweat, getting him all worked up, all _angry_ for him.

It would be so easy—climbing out the window, clad in KyuHyun’s expensive clothing and run as fast as his skinny yet strong legs could carry him.

It’s not about breaking free—he doesn’t want to _run away_ from KyuHyun and KyuHyun would know so…

No. It’s about the _hunt_ , the excitement. It’s knowing he’s disobeying and that eventually he’ll get caught, and then punished. It’s knowing he’s pushing, pushing up to the breaking point, maybe even _breaking._

He licks his lips and turns around, taking in the wonderful sight before him: acres and acres of beautiful land, forests, flowers, paths. It’s not a maze, but it could be.

If it was HyukJae running for dear life and KyuHyun chasing him, KyuHyun’s throat bloodthirsty, his eyes black like a wolf’s, his teeth bared and biting on air; their breaths ragged with effort and painfully scarce; _then_ it’d be a maze. The deadliest anyone’s ever known, the wildest.

He presses his hand flat against the door surface and pushes forcefully, the glass creaking out but not budging. He imagines that if he were to push with all his might, it would shatter into pieces. The shards would claw to his palms, tearing the sensitive skin. The blood would stain the glass; leave its print on it. Would KyuHyun pick up on it? How long would it take for the brunette to notice HyukJae’s absence? Would he flip out and go after the blonde, fuming, following his blood trail like a hungry predator?

He chuckles cheekily at this thought: KyuHyun doesn’t run, doesn’t _do_ sports at all. He’s your typical pasty-white evil music genius, and you could say the only exercise he ever gets is on their bed (or any substitute surface, for that matter), but HyukJae is allowed to dream, isn’t he?

“What do you think you’re doing?” a rough voice whispers in his ears at the same time possessive arms curl around his slim waist, sending lighting-like shivers all along his spine.

Then again, perhaps KyuHyun doesn’t _need_ to resemble any wild animal to be a predator.

KyuHyun’s smart, _really_ smart. And he’s strong. And he’s got HyukJae twisted around his pretty pianist fingers.

“Nothing” the word escapes HyukJae’s lips in a mere puff of air and he knows how KyuHyun picks up on his lie immediately.

A hand creeps up his stomach and chest, wrapping around his throat like a deadly snake and HyukJae exhales shakily. His bare skin is cold, he notices now because KyuHyun’s hands are warm from the piano playing.

“Is that so? Because it didn’t seem like nothing to me.”

KyuHyun’s left hand grips the blonde’s jutting hipbone so hard HyukJae gasps.

“ _KyuHyun…_ ” he begins, but his airflow is cut when the brunette curves his fingers around the leather collar HyukJae’s always forgetting he’s wearing he’s that used to it, and pulls him away from the glass doors.

His vision goes white for a moment with the force of KyuHyun pulling—no, _dragging_ him towards the bed, his throat closing up painfully from the constriction, his lungs aching for air. He cries out when he feels his lithe body bounce on the mattress but he’s not given any time to recover; KyuHyun’s immediately atop him, straddling him with that psychopathic smirk on his lips that used to scare the hell out of HyukJae. 

“Tell me, HyukJae, where you by any chance thinking of running away? _From me_? Seriously?” He pronounces the words slowly, tantalizingly so. He savors them, the moment.

“I would never.” HyukJae says, feeling honest yet like a liar at the same time, and it’s an awesome sensation, being able to fuck with KyuHyun’s head like this.

KyuHyun’s not one to sit there and take it, however. He raises an eyebrow at the same time that he raises HyukJae’s wrists up to the headboard and cuffs them to the attached shackles. HyukJae grunts in frustration: he’s got about an inch of chain to move around, which is not nearly enough to retaliate to KyuHyun’s taunting.

That’s a part of it as well: trying to think of ways of beating KyuHyun at his own game, trying to free himself from his bindings. Then again, it’s not about _winning_ , it’s about _playing._ He knows he’ll die in KyuHyun’s arms, ecstatic and exactly where he wants to be, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy pushing KyuHyun’s buttons until the rawest most innate and uncontrolled side of his lover surfaces.

“Stay still” KyuHyun orders in that sultry voice that makes HyukJae’s cock harden in a near-conditioned response—his body registers the low tone and memories of the same voice saying how fucking gorgeous he is, how hot, how tight, invade him. A moan catches in his throat and he obeys, ceasing his fidgeting at once. “Always a good boy… Or so it seems.”

KyuHyun’s hands trail down his torso, tracing HyukJae’s protruding ribs and clawing at his side so forcefully the skin sinks under his fingertips, so sensitive they both think a little bit more strength applied and it would rip apart. It doesn’t, though. HyukJae’s milky body resists sternly, not budging, but allowing the brunette to leave his marks, as many as he wishes.

“Fuck” HyukJae gasps as the sharp pain at his side turns into throbbing heat, his whole body warming up under the ministrations. There are _not_ caresses. They are not for HyukJae’s pleasure. KyuHyun does it because he likes it, _adores_ it; he does it because he _can._ And if HyukJae turned out to like it _this_ much—well, that’s just sheer luck.

“You’re _so_ perfect, HyukJae. My perfect little pet” KyuHyun says, admiring the blonde’s body like the deity it is to him. He leans down and licks HyukJae’s mouth like he’s got all the time for it—well, he _does,_ doesn’t he? HyukJae wants to grab his face and smash their lips together, but since he’s bidden to the bed all he can settle for is to taste KyuHyun’s tongue with his own, lapping at it teasingly, pleadingly.  “Tell the truth, HyukJae. You just want me to manhandle you, don’t you? To punish you for a crime you committed on fucking purpose.”

As if HyukJae could ever truly _lie._ He needn’t say anything, however, because his hips buck up involuntarily and answer for him.

KyuHyun chuckles, sneaking a hand under HyukJae’s body to cup one of his ass cheeks. “Thought so.” He stays quiet for a minute, running his nose up and down the curve of HyukJae’s neck, inhaling deeply. “And here I was, coming to fill you in with some _amazing_ news. But you turned to be a fucking ungrateful bitch, so why should I reward you?”

HyukJae’s eyes sparkle with curiosity. KyuHyun almost never brings him news, however good or bad, (what’s in the outside world that could interest HyukJae, anyway?). So whatever it is it has to be a big deal. HyukJae wants to know—he _needs_ to know. 

“Please…” he says in a rehearsed wanton voice, his mouth twisting seductively around the sounds, his eyes widening in a pleading look. “I could do… _anything,_ KyuHyun-ah” he bites his lower lip, chews on it, reddens it so it looks irresistible for his lover, and fixes his sultry gaze on KyuHyun’s equally intense one. Then, with a practiced velvety tone he tries one more time, “Tell me, please? I’ll be a good boy. I promise.”

KyuHyun groans, nibbling HyukJae’s collar bone vehemently so he gets what his little taunting games are doing to KyuHyun. Truth is… he likes control. KyuHyun has spent his whole life being served and attended to, so he’s accustomed to always getting his perfect way. Like with HyukJae: he’d seen him one day at a picturesque little café he used to frequent for inspiration and immediately taken him to his liking (back then HyukJae was black-haired and not quite as skinny, but still as beautiful as KyuHyun sees him nowadays). He’d wanted HyukJae, so he’d gone and taken him. It was how it’s always worked for him—KyuHyun wants, KyuHyun _has._

But that doesn’t mean HyukJae is a helpless little bunny in the evil genius’ hands. Far from it, actually; he’s already learnt how to work KyuHyun perfectly, when he really needs to. He knows exactly how to beg and when, how to ask for things, when to shut up and let it go. The things HyukJae has gotten away with are remarkable, if you consider KyuHyun’s the kind of guy that would fire a person for bringing him a hazelnut latte instead of a caramel macchiato. So yeah, HyukJae might be KyuHyun’s toy, his most treasured possession, but he’s got KyuHyun wrapped around his little finger just as much as KyuHyun gets HyukJae all around himself every night. 

Today is no exception. KyuHyun kisses HyukJae hard, tugging his lower lip without much care, making it bleed and then lapping the droplets away, and then retreats, sitting on HyukJae’s thighs. He brushes a hand through his hair and sighs. It rubs HyukJae the wrong way a tiny bit; hesitation? Not part of KyuHyun’s usual repertoire.

“They dropped your case” KyuHyun finally confesses. “It’s all over the morning news. In the end they declared your disappearance as a dead-end investigation, as _death_ , and so they have already held an honorary funeral service for Lee HyukJae, age twenty-two, former college student and loving son.”

HyukJae’s eyes lose focus as he lets the words sink in. Crap. Has it been _so_ long that the police have already given up on him? Have his family and friends accept that he’d never return, that his body might’ve turned into worm meat months ago? Shit.

“…I…” HyukJae whispers, but it comes out like nothing more than a puff of air and KyuHyun doesn’t pick up on it.

So KyuHyun continues. “You no longer exist, Hyukkie. Your former self that belonged to them is gone.” He lowers his gaze from HyukJae’s eyes to his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, and then cups his face with one hand, his thumb stroking gingerly, lovingly. “You’re mine at last. I can shape you to my liking, I _define_ you now. How does that feel?”

HyukJae swallows a lump inside his throat he didn’t know he had, and then looks up at KyuHyun, meeting his eyes without any qualms. He’s got this wild sparkle in them, a rare kind that can mean anything.

“Let me go” he orders, in a voice so strong and rough that it takes KyuHyun by surprise.

“What?”

“Let go of me!”

He can see KyuHyun’s expression twist in terror and pain, and HyukJae allows himself to revel in it for a second before adding, “I want to ride you, KyuHyun-ah.”

KyuHyun visibly relaxes and HyukJae smiles to himself. For a minute there he got KyuHyun to feel sincerely panicked about his intentions, to doubt of HyukJae’s devotion. Ha, as if. As he feels his hands being released and helps KyuHyun turn on his back, he’s filled by a weird sense of pride, of ownership. Perhaps this is how KyuHyun feels, having HyukJae.

“Stupid KyuHyun… How could you think…” he doesn’t finish, he just trails open-mouthed kisses from KyuHyun’s jaw to his stomach, biting the flesh just above the belly button. One of his hands slides up KyuHyun’s torso possessively and he stares up, his black pupils visible through his long lashes. He wants to express how he feels, but he doesn’t have the words. He’s never been good with them—that’s why he’d always used his body to say what he couldn’t through his mouth. Same goes for KyuHyun and his music.

The truth is that beyond everything and anything, beyond their relationship of pet and master, of a distant past where HyukJae had hated KyuHyun and KyuHyun hadn’t trusted HyukJae, they’re but lonely creatures that have molded to each other’s forms, rebooted the rhythm in which their hearts beat so they could march at their own personal pace.

HyukJae swallows again, his breath coming out in nervous puffs than land on KyuHyun’s stomach and make the muscles twitch involuntarily, and suddenly the words form and escape before he can retain them. “Without you, I am not myself, KyuHyun.”

It’s the last thing he says that morning, the last words he needs to utter because from there on his mouth is busy enjoying every bit of KyuHyun’s presence, every bit of his body and how every kiss, lick, suck, rub and bite percolates into his system, makes him feel HyukJae’s frank devotion. He doesn’t have to worry about people finding him anymore; they are gone, he’s gone. They’ve let him gone, at last.

Now, he’s truly free.

Now, HyukJae can finally stop wondering.


End file.
